Snowed In
by Monti Cora
Summary: A blizzard keeps the brothers locked inside their cabin with no help from the outside world. Can Sam save an injured Dean before it truly is too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Snowed In

**Disclaimer: **Teen for angstiness among other things and they are on my Christmas list

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The crack-fire from Dean's rifle barreled through the chilly air, the iron finding its mark in the clawed beast threatening to rip the older man to shreds. A whining howl echoed in Dean's ears as the furry creature fell to its death at the Winchester's feet, its dying breaths shallow and eerie. 

"Sam! I got it!" The older brother yelled over his shoulder excitedly. Their hunt had been hard and the piling snow and frigid air hadn't made it any easier.

"Coming your way!" Sam hollered from the foot of the hill where he had been waiting lest the monster chose a different method of attack. The younger brother trudged as quickly as he could up the slope, the cool snow dampening his pant legs and causing him to shiver.

Dean turned when he heard Sam's approach from behind and shouldered his rifle proudly, "See, what'd I tell you. Nothing to it."

"Right," Sam breathed, looking past his brother to the pile of the dead furry mass--the dead furry mass that was moving. "Dean! Drop!"

Dean's eyes widened in panic and he threw a cautionary, curious glance over his shoulder, his mouth dropping in disbelief as a wide, black paw bearing six razor-sharp claws swung out at him. Throwing his hands out in front of him, Dean twisted his body in attempt to avoid the threatening claws and dropped to the ground. A cry fell from his lips as the tips of the menacing claws graced his back, punctuated by the booming sound of two gunshots as Sam finished the job Dean had started.

Sam stood frozen stiff for a minute, his heavy breaths shown in white puffs in the cold air as he lowered the gun and willed his feet to move from their place and toward his brother. Dean was writhing on the snowy ground, his face scrunched in pain. Sam worked his long legs through the snow mounds between him and his brother, dropping to his knees as he reached his goal, and grimacing at the damp wetness infiltrating his jeans.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice almost a whisper in the whipping torrent of wind, "You okay, man?"

Dean nodded shortly, a mask of indifference slamming into place, "Yeah, I'm good. Bastard scratched me."

"Oh," the younger brother muttered, tilting his head and eyeing his brother's back. The tears in the back of Dean's coat were also through the two shirts and undershirt his brother had put on that morning and Sam could see the small trails of blood through the holes. Dean shivered jerkily and Sam's attention was brought back to his brother. "Okay, let's get back to the cabin. It's getting worse out here."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, clenching his jaw as he pushed himself up into a stand, swatting away Sam's outstretched hands offering to help. "Damn, burn another clip in that thing."

"They don't look that deep. I can fix them." Sam commented, rolling his eyes at his brother's exaggerated plight. "You'll be fine."

"Says the geek," Dean smirked and straightened out his back with a grunt. "But you're cleaning the snow off my baby's windshield and windows. I'm injured here."

Sam laughed heartily, his teeth taking to chattering, and both brothers hustled their steps. "Whatever you say, man."

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Sam shuddered against the cool leather interior of the car, not at all thrilled that he could see his breath in the slowly warming Impala. After they got out of the encroaching blizzard conditions, Sam was seriously going to force Dean's hand and get him to fix the damn heat. Slowly, the younger Winchester eased the car out of the snow drift and onto the ice-slicked road.

Dean lay propped against the passenger door, his body leaning forward so that no part of his back hit the seat. Sam gave his brother a sympathetic glance and a concerned smile before refocusing his attention onto the glazed asphalt.

"I'm freezing!" Sam stated more than obviously through his clattering teeth, reaching out and flicking the heat up further.

"Yeah, college boy, we're in Nowhere, Colorodo in the middle of damn winter," Dean replied, giving his brother an annoyed glance. "Some great idea for a hunt you had there."

"Hey, there wasn't much else to choose from," Sam defended, feigning hurt at his brother's words, "It was either this or that haunted old folks home. And I know how well you get along with grandmas."

"C'mon, man, old people love me," Dean shot back, a grimace replacing his smirk seconds later as he shifted in his seat.

"Right," Sam drawled in mock agreement, leaning forward and squinting his eyes to see through the white haze falling faster by the second. The side road exit was barely visible, and had it not been for Dean's less than normal volume insinuation that Sam didn't know where the hell he was going, little brother would've missed the turn completely.

A few more feet of crunching snow beneath the Impala's wheels brought the rustic hunting cabin they had squatted in for the past few days into view. Sam eased the car as close to the covered porch as he could before wrapping his jacket tightly around him and exiting the car. Dean followed his lead and quickly joined his brother on the wooden porch, stomping the snow off his boots.

The cabin was small, nothing more than a living room shared kitchen, a tiny bathroom, and one bedroom furnished with only a twin bed and an army-style cot, which Sam had been delegated by Dean to sleep in because big brother's needed more room to move around. Never mind the fact that little brother was a friggen' Jolly Green Giant and could barely manage to curl up on the cot, let alone keep from falling out of it all night.

Sam groaned as he stepped across the threshold, the heat radiating from the stand-up heater in the corner created a prickly sensation on his freezing skin. Instinctively, he moved toward the source of warm comfort, rubbing his hands together furiously and waiting for the chill to seep out of his bones. Dean laughed as he entered the cabin and saw his brother hunched over the heater, shedding his coat gingerly and shuffling toward the bathroom. He was just as cold, but a hot shower would do the trick if not better than the heater.

"Did you bring the first aid kit in?" Sam questioned, shouldering off his jacket coat and watching Dean try and hide a wince as the older brother searched for clean clothes.

"Nope," Dean replied with a smirk, "It's in the car."

The bathroom door slammed with finality and Sam shook his head in irritation and defeat, before thrusting his arms through the jacket holes and stomping back out the car to retrieve Dean's aid. While in the process, the younger brother snagged a few extra blankets from the trunk because he was sure the temperature was going to further drop well below ass-biting before the night was over.

Upon re-entering the cabin, Sam heard the creaking sound of the shower turning off and hastily laid out the limited medical supplies on the tattered sofa and sat in wait for Dean to come and join him in the living room. He didn't have to wait long. Within a couple minutes, Dean sauntered down the hallway, clothed in pajama bottoms, a long sleeve Tee clutched in his right hand.

"What am I a piece of meat to you?" Dean asked in feigned horror, eyes wide and shimmering with barely contained laughter. Sam blushed instantly, fire appearing on his cheeks as he dropped his head and stared at anything but his brother's bare chest as Dean circled round to plop down along side him on the sofa, back turned to Sam.

"No, but that thing sure thought you were," Sam grimaced as he studied the six scratches laced diagonal along his brother's back. Picking up a small towel, he liberally poured the antiseptic onto it and issued a warning before placing the drenched cloth on his brother's already red back.

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean yelled, jerking forward and writhing against the hissing burn.

"Sorry..." Sam apologized nervously, as he frantically tried to remove the cloth that was agonizing his brother. "Sorry."

"Its o-okay," Dean breathed shakily in relief as the burn of the alcohol lessened considerably.

Sam gently probed the scratches, wincing right along side his brother with every sharp intake of breath Dean pulled in. "They don't look deep. You're not gonna need stitches or anything, but they are a little red."

"Yeah, Sam, that's kind of normal when you get _scratched." _Dean grunted, slipping his shirt on and easing off the couch.

"We don't want them to get infected," Sam stated worriedly, standing up.

Dean sighed and swatted playfully at his little brother's head, "You worry too much. It's fine. Now, let's get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning. God, I hate snow."

Sam laughed at his brother's obvious disgust for the white wetness and nodded his agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

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Sam was freezing. No, scratch that, Sam was miserable and freezing. The two wool blankets and worse for wear comforter he had bundled around him were doing zilch to quell the frigid chill plaguing his body and keeping sleep at bay. With an irritated huff, the younger Winchester swung his legs over the edge of the cot, his socked feet connecting with the cold wood.

"Dean?" Sam whispered hoarsely, because hell, if he was miserable, Dean was probably miserable too or, well, he should be. "Dean?"

A weak groan was all Sam got in reply and he stood up, blankets wrapped around him tight and shuffled over to his brother's bed, "Move over, man. I'm freezing!"

Dean made no such inclination to move or even acknowledge the fact that Sam was hovering over him, teeth chattering at mega volume. Sam sighed, determined, and dumped the blankets on the other side of Dean's bed before almost jumping over his brother's sleeping form and sliding under the pile of covers as fast as he possibly could.

"Don't w-worry, Dean," Sam shivered with a bark of laughter, dangerously close to snuggling, "I w-won't tell if you won't."

As Sam sought to find a comfortable position, his arm connected with Dean's injured back and he sucked in a terrified gasp as he turned to see if he'd disturbed his brother. But Dean hadn't moved. Sam's brow furrowed in thought and he brought his offending arm to his chest, cradling his elbow.

Sam withdrew his hand almost instantly as his fingers found wetness slicked against his arm and the younger brother swallowed thickly as he reached out to shake his brother's shoulder, "Dean? Wake up, man."

When Dean didn't respond, Sam bolted into action. He was off the bed in a flash searching out the nearest light source, nearly knocking the lap over in the process as he hustled back to his brother's side. The very breath surging through him was sucked out into nothing but a stunned gape as Sam dropped to his knees and brought a hand to Dean's sweating brow.

Fire burned beneath the younger man's hand, and Sam gently slapped the side of Dean's face coaxing the older man to wake. Sam allowed himself the luxury of breathing only when Dean's eyes fluttered, coming only to half mast. "Okay, Dean, stay with me, okay? God, you're burning up."

"'t...h-hurts," Dean moaned and leaned into Sam's cool touch, the sweat glistening off his face and coating Sam's hand with its salty wetness.

Sam's heart raced in full-fledged panic. "What hurts, Dean? You're back? Does your back hurt?"

Fear found its grip as Dean only moaned and sought to bury his sweaty head deeper into the pillow and away from the bright intrusion of light and Sam's concerned face. The younger brother slowly peeled back the mound of covers on top of Dean, revealing sweat soaked clothes and sheets beneath. The cuts were infected, Sam knew it and biting his lower lip, he slowly lifted the bottom of Dean's T-shirt to study the scratches that earlier had posed little threat.

Sam's body convulsed, throat extending to fulfill his stomach's desire to retch until he simply couldn't anymore as the small scratches laced with red hours before were now deepening slashes of scarlet oozing a thick blackness that coated every inch of Dean's back.

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Please let me know what you think and if I should continue! Reviews would make me one happy X-5!

Monti Cora


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! You guy's replies were sooo awesome! Thank you so much! Hopefully, I did reply to everyone. I think I did. Let me know if I missed you! Here's the next chapter! Hope you like it!**

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Snowed In

Chapter 2

"S-Sammy?" Dean groaned weakly, shifting uncomfortably and teeth dangerously near chattering. A pained look of concern etched on the older man's face as he watched Sam's tight lipped expression, the younger man almost appearing green. "Wh-what sssrrong?"

Sam sucked in a breath and commanded his mind to stay calm. He could handle this. In all their hunting years, surely he'd seen worse. He tilted his head to re-inspect the dripping wounds, bile rising back in his throat. Yeah…he'd seen worse. Maybe. But no need freaking Dean out until he knew what the hell they were dealing with. "It's going to be okay, Dean. Just infected, that's all. We can handle this."

"m—tired," Dean murmured, blinking heavily. The younger brother sighed shakily in relief, grateful for small favors as Dean seemed oblivious to Sam's less than confident demeanor regarding their situation.

"What do you think about sleeping on my bed just for a little while," Sam asked, hoping to sound eager, but knowing he must've seemed to be addressing a petulant four year old begging them just to take the damn candy.

Dean grunted a pitiful attempt at a scoffing laugh. "'s not a b-bed."

"I know," Sam stated with a sad smile. Dean was never weak, not like this, not this vulnerable. "But it'd be better for right now. I need to change the sheets."

"Y-you wet the bed," Dean mumbled barely audible.

Sam shook his head, knowing it was the fever talking and bringing up a memory he would kill to never hear of again. "Not for a long time, big brother," he paused, mentally calculating the distance between his cot and Dean's bed. The all but five feet were going to seem like five miles and there was no denying it. "Here, I got you."

"Can do—mslf," Dean protested, swatting feebly at Sam's arms as the younger brother began to help him to a sit.

Sam bit his lower lip. "You can try--"

And Dean did, Sam had to give him credit there. Although, older brother's try consisted of a lifting of his head before a terrifying scream echoed through the room. "AGH! S-sam! H-hurts…"

Sam watched his brother do his best to curl inwards, fingers gripping tightly at his hair and agony defined all over the older man's face. The younger man searched the room for any method of aid in Dean's transfer but found none. "Okay, Dean, just…I'm going to move you over there, alright?"

Dean's eyes shone with crystal wetness as Sam leaned over his shivering form, bringing one arm up under his older brother's knees and snaking the other around his torso, shifting his shoulder so Dean's head could rest against him. "On three. One, two, three!"

Sam grunted and Dean whimpered as the younger brother reached a hunched stand under his brother's weight. Shuffling his feet, Sam made it to the cot and set his brother down as carefully as he could. But the transfer jostled Dean just enough for him to release his bottom lip from the tense bite he had on it and cry out in pitiful agony.

The younger brother pulled his hands away automatically, fearing he was the reason Dean was in so much pain. But the lack of touch and solace seemed to only cause Dean more discomfort. "I'm gonna fix this, alright?"

Dean's eyes were clenched tight and his face was pinched against the wave of pain working its way up and down his entire body. "Kay," he whispered hoarsely, his breathing shaky as his features slackened in unquestioning trust.

"Sleep," Sam ordered softly, brushing his fingers along Dean's sweaty spikes of hair. His forehead seemed near an inferno and the little brother could've beat the hell out of himself for not buying a new thermometer after the last one had ended up being used as a makeshift stake for their last trip wire experiment.

Easing Dean to a good balance on his side, Sam retreated into the bathroom, and proceeded to dump every towel, which came to a grand total of four, in the bath, flipping on the shower and dousing the worn cotton in frigid water. After the tub had filled considerably, Sam wrung out two of the towels, near sprinting as he carried the dripping material back into the bedroom.

Slinging the wet towels over his shoulder, Sam hiked Dean's shirt up more, fully exposing his scratched back and the black sludge caked around them. They didn't seem to be leaking anymore and Sam didn't know whether to be grateful or frightened by that fact. Deftly, he took one of the towels and wiped the black stains off Dean's back until only bright red scratches remained. The cuts seemed deeper, but Sam couldn't be sure.

He did know that he had to get Dean's shirt off and praying to a God he didn't know existed or not that this wouldn't cause his brother more pain, he wrapped his arms around Dean, lifting his upper body and crouching down so Dean's torso leaned completely against him.

Sam tried to ignore the searing heat instantly replacing the chill from the towels due to Dean's sick body pressed against him. As quickly as he could, Sam eased the rest of the damp shirt off his brother with a grimace and swiped the other towel off his shoulder, wrapping it around Dean.

Dean's green eyes cracked open at the sudden cool cloth and Sam jerked back when he saw the pained questioning glance. "W-ha?"

"It's for your fever," Sam offered weakly, his voice cracking when Dean's bottom lip began to quiver and a shudder raked through the older man. "Let's lay you back down, huh?"

Sam placed his hands on Dean's shoulder, prepared to aid the older man down but Dean protested, stiffening as much as his weak body would allow and took to pawing at the clinging wet towel. "N-no."

"Leave it," Sam commanded, using a bit more strength and overpowering his brother easily as he laid Dean back down on his side. "I'll be right back."

Sam raced back to the bathroom, grabbing the other two freezing towels and bit his lip as the frigid water burned his own hands as he headed back to the room. If it was bothering him, then Dean...

His footfalls halted when he re-entered the room to find his brother laying rigid on the bed, his body moving in uncontrollable shivers against the cold. Dean's eyes were glued on the far wall, his lip held in a blood yielding bite as he sought control. Sam's eyes watered helplessly and the sight was enough to make him question his next actions.

But a choice was something he didn't really have right now. Dean was hot, burning actually, far from lucid, and even though the presence of sweat was a good sign, Sam knew he had to get control over the fever now, because later just wasn't going to be an option.

Sam rolled the towels up, placing on around his brother's legs and the other around Dean's neck and head. A small smirk flittered on the young man's face at his mummified brother knowing what a well Dean would say, but this Dean's red-rimmed eyes and the tears streaking down his face with each intense quiver couldn't handle seeing his little brother making a joke at his expense and Sam patted Dean's shoulder reassuringly.

"I know it hurts, but just for a little while, okay?" Sam bargained, more his validation than for Dean's forgiveness because all the chattering and shuddering his older brother was enduring due to the cold compresses had to be classified as torture.

"Whh-ere's Dad, S-sammy?" Dean shivered, arms wrapping around his torso and fever-bright eyes searching for an answer.

Sam cleared his throat, unsure really of how to proceed. Dean knew where their father was, or rather what had happened to him. But now didn't seem the time nor the place to drudge up that horrendous walk down memory lane and Sam hated himself for what came out of his mouth next. "He'll be here soon, Dean."

"H-he's gon-gonna be mad," the sick man stammered, clenching his jaw against the clattering of his teeth.

"Why?" Sam pressed, forehead creased in concern. Sure, their dad had never taken anything lightly since Mom had died, but them being sick was the one time Sam really remembered their Dad being just that. But then again, the world through Dean's eyes could be a scary place.

"I—I fo-forgot to take H—hend-hendrix back."

Sam chuckled involuntarily at Dean's confession. Hendrix being the family dog little brother had begged and pleaded to keep after finding the mutt in a back alley of the hotel they were staying in. Their dad had been somewhat okay with it until Hendrix had decided to pee in Daddy's weapons bag and that was the end of that.

"It's okay," Sam soothed, stroking his brother's forehead and hoping the motion was enough to coax Dean back asleep, "Remember, you called Pastor Jim and he came and got him. Found him a home."

Dean's clouded, unfocused eyes searched Sam for a moment, his face revealing his confusion. "O-oh."

Sam laid his palm flat against his brother's forehead, then the back of his hand. "Wow, it kind of worked."

"Huh?" Dean murmured, shifting down in the sheets.

"I think you're fever is down a little bit, not a lot but it's a start," Sam smiled and stood up, tucking his brother in, "I'll be back with some Tylenol, if we have it. Hang on."

Sam left the room and walked into the living room, finding the medic kit right where he'd left it on the couch. Shivering against the freezing temperature of the open room he hastily fumbled through the kit, finding the small sample packet fairly quickly. They had about three more left and the younger brother walked with a confident step as he sauntered back to the bedroom.

Between the cool towels and the Tylenol, he could get Dean's fever down, and then with all the snow Dean would have time to heal and he would have time to figure out what had caused it.

His steps halted, Sam's stomach sinking as he neared the door, a harsh wheeze and deep, wet cough causing his heart to pound. Maybe Dean was worse off then he thought. Nearly running into the cramped space, Sam rushed to Dean's side, hands reaching out to bracing his brother's body with each hacking cough. A sickening squish infiltrated his ears as his hands came to rest on Dean's back, and lifting his head, he saw the trail of black once again seeping through.

Dean's eyes were slammed shut and his head was ducked from view, Sam bowed his own and tried to establish a connection, "It'll be okay. You're alright."

The comforts were heartfelt, but useless in Sam's mind but Dean responded to them nonetheless and his clenched eyes cracked open, and Sam gaped at the green quickly fading as black leaked from the corners.

"Oh, God."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry it took me sooo long! You guys have been so great with reviews and stuff, and I appreciate all the comments. Life found its way to me--stupid crap! but okays, here is an update and I hope its worth the time you spent waiting!

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Snowed In 

Chapter 3

"Dean, its okay," Sam murmured, using his long, trembling fingers to wipe the thick black from the corners of his brother's eyes and placing his free hand on Dean's chest in effort to monitor the wheezing breaths Dean was barely managing to draw in. "Sshh, you're okay, its okay."

Dean lifted his head slowly as if it weighed over a ton and managed a weary roll of his eyes as he choked on an exhale. Sam couldn't help but to smirk and grabbed one of the forgotten towels from earlier, running it across Dean's face which earned him a less than favorable glance from his brother. "Okay, so it's not all okay, exactly. But I'm handling it, got it?"

"S-sure," Dean heaved, shifting slightly on the bed and groaning pitifully.

"You need anything?" Sam offered quickly, grateful that the barking coughs had dissipated and snatched the towel he'd draped around Dean's head moments before, replacing the now dry cloth with his sweaty palm. "You feel cooler."

"Gross," the older brother whined, jerking away from Sam's idea of a thermometer. "Satisfied?"

"Hardly," Sam shot back and Dean quirked an eyebrow. The younger brother straightened up, slinging the towels over his shoulder as he headed back toward the living room and noticed the two pills half crushed on the cabin floor. "I'll be right back with some pills, okay?"

"M'kay," Dean muttered, his heavy eyelids drooping closed as he wrapped his arms protectively over his torso and fought a shiver. It was freezing.

Sam returned within seconds, and gave Dean's shoulder a light shake to awaken the snoozing man. Dean jerked back, regretting the motion with a pained cry when his eyes flew wide open and Sam's outstretched hand filled his vision.

"Take these," Sam ordered, and waited for Dean's arm to snake tiredly out and his hand to open. The younger brother dumped the pills in Dean's palm and rushed off to the bathroom, returning with a half glass of water.

Dean's outstretched hand was shaking horribly and Sam set the glass down on the floor, closing his brother's hand into a loose fist so the pills would stay, and placed his arms under Dean's. "Going to help you sit up. You ready?"

Dean shook his head, a whimper escaping his sealed tight lips. Sam released his hold and walked around the side of the cot, carefully maneuvering himself onto it behind his brother. The worn excuse for a bed groaned under his additional weight and Sam grimaced, praying silently that the damn thing would hold.

"You got to sit up," Sam whispered gently, "You need to take the Tylenol and drink something. Please, Dean. C'mon."

The sick man didn't offer any sense of reply, but allowed Sam to situate and prop up him against his chest. Sam braced Dean with a solid grip and leaned his upper body over, his free arm finding the discarded water glass and brought the half-full drink to his brother's parched lips.

Dean's mouth didn't readily open and Sam's brow furrowed in concern. He immediately noticed that his older brother's eyes had slid shut and Sam sighed, gently nudging the cool glass to Dean's lips again. "Dean, wake up. Just one sip and I'll leave you alone, I swear."

"Whu--?" Dean muttered, entering a quickly fading sense of consciousness, teeth clinking against the too close glass.

"Drink," Sam ordered softly, elated and terrified when Dean responded without comment.

Dean's throat moved painfully slow as it worked to swallow the liquid and Sam grimaced sympathetically when the muscles refused to further the motion and Dean gagged. Sam leaned his brother forward, bracing his heaving chest, until all the water had been spat back out onto the floor.

"C-can't," Dean murmured wearily, his eyes brimming with unshed tears from the hacking.

"It's okay," Sam comforted, knowing full good and well it sooo wasn't. "We'll try later 'cause it went down a bit with the towels."

Sam's comment was lost on deaf ears as Dean's eyes were already shut and his sawing breath evened out as the older brother lost himself in exhaustion. The younger brother gently slid off the cot, doing his best not to jostle his brother, and laid Dean back down on his side, covering his shivering form with the tattered blankets.

For a moment, Sam stood, frozen in place, watching the god-like brother of his tremble uncontrollably through a sheen of sweat. He wasn't going to make Dean suffer any more than the man already was. Dean would be fine. They'd gotten through a hell of a lot of stuff before, and he could figure this out. Sam knew he could.

First things first though. He was going to have to ransack the car for liquid medication because no way was Dean ever going to be able to down Tylenol when he couldn't even swallow water

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Sam slammed the front door of the cabin hard. Frustration had set in seeing as how he'd practically tore the Impala, med kit, and empty cupboards for liquid meds and found nothing. There was no way he could shovel out the six foot snow bank covering the drive.

Clutching the laptop closer to his freezing body, Sam knew his only option was research at this point. The cool towels would have do for now, and hopefully would hold Dean's fever to a reasonable level until he found out what they were dealing with.

Making his way to the back of the cabin, Sam shuffled quietly to the bedroom, satisfied that Dean was still snoozing fairly peacefully and although, he still felt like an oven, the temperature had remained somewhat cooler. Settling in on the stripped bed across from his brother, Sam opened the laptop and clicked on his browser.

The computer screen went white and the blinking notice that his connection was disabled flashed tauntingly. Sam sucked in a halting breath, closing the browser window and trying again. The same message appeared and the younger man fought back bitter tears as he tossed the useless computer aside, his hands flying rapidly for his phone.

Sam scrolled down the list of contacts, the sound of shaky inhales and choked sobs accompanying the cellular devices beeping alerts as the names displayed. Joshua had helped before…maybe now….

Sam selected the name and nearly chucked the phone across the room when he realized cell reception was zilch. He silently resolved to try every corner of the god-forsaken cabin, and even stand out in the blizzard if it got him answers at this point.

He searched the whole cabin to get a single bar of reception in the farthest corner, between the heater and the wall. Sam dialed anxiously, keeping his body deathly still in fear of losing the signal as he listened to the steady ring tone.

_Hello?_

"Joshua!" Sam half-yelled in relief, "This is Sam Winchester. I need your help."

"Okay, Sam," Joshua replied, and Sam could hear the clutter of things being shuffled around. "What's the problem?"

"It's Dean," Sam answered, blinking back fresh tears.

Static hung between the two lines, and Sam was about ready to scream into the phone before Joshua's deep voice barreled through the line. "Again?"

"Yes," Sam snapped, irritation fraying his already over taxed nerves. "We were on a job and the creature got him. But now he's got an infection or something, I dunno, but there's this black stuff coming out the wounds and—and his eyes. My computer isn't working and I—I--"

"Okay, okay," Joshua broke in, relieved he heard Sam draw in a breath across the line. "What type of creature was it?"

"Dean and I thought werewolf," Sam revealed, knowing it sounded weak, but they hadn't been entirely sure of anything except the damn thing had killed—mutilated—at least six people. "But we shot it with iron and silver rounds and killed it. So I don't understand why Dean's sick."

"Don't think it was a werewolf, Sam," Joshua chimed in.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You think?"

"Hey, boy," Joshua chided, although his tone held no real heat, "You're the one that called me here."

"Right," Sam muttered, "So what do you think it could be?"

"Maybe a demon," Joshua suggested.

Sam mulled the thought over, his lips pursing in confusion. "Demon?"

"Yeah, pestilence, disease, that kind of demon," the other hunter continued, "Maybe whatever it got Dean with is used when it takes its prey. Did any of the other victims have the same thing happen or the same black stuff around?"

"There wasn't much left to tell," Sam pointed out, scratching his head. They were so screwed if Joshua couldn't come through. "It looked more like a creature. I mean, like a supped up wolf, you know? I don't think a dem-"

"You ever read the Bible, son?" Joshua interrupted tersely, "Demons possessed pigs, what makes you think they wouldn't take to some other animal? I'm just saying that if this Demon wants to kill, an animal might be the best choice for the environment it resides in. Where'd you say you were?"

"I didn't," Sam rubbed his throbbing head, "We're in Resida, Colorado. Squatted in a cabin on the north side of the Jamestown Reserve."

"Alright, I'll see if I got any contacts up that way, and they can get you some help," Joshua replied, sighing before continuing, "You got holy water, Sam?"

Sam's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Yeah, why wou—No! Joshua, he's already sick enough, I can't dump holy water on him."

"Unless you want to bury him, you will." Joshua shot back, total low blow but the man never was one to mince words. "Look, it's the only way to really know if you're dealing with a demonic sickness, and if you are, well, Sam, the holy water will curb it a bit. And you know as well as I do that a demon ain't dying 'cause of iron and silver rounds. And you boys both shot it up, so…"

"I get it!" Sam barked back, biting down on his tongue lest he rip the fellow hunter a new one for being so damn blunt at a time like this.

"I'm going to do my best to get help to you, Sam." Joshua soothed cautiously, "But you have to do what you can to keep Dean in the best shape you can manage until it gets there."

"And if it's not some demon thing?" Sam protested fiercely, "Then what?"

"Then you call me back," Joshua stated firmly, "And Sam, if the holy water works, don't panic. Just make sure you use enough to keep it from getting worse—if it gets worse you call, got it?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he heard the other line click and the dial tone began its hum. Grabbing his jacket off the edge of the bed, Sam shouldered it on and tugged at the pockets, nervously casting a glance at Dean's sleeping form before retreating back to the cabin's entrance and exiting into the frigid cold in search of the sacred water that determined the course of Dean's next hours.


End file.
